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"Thank you. Give my best to your parents."
"I will." It was jealousy, he told himself, plain and simple jealousy
that made him want to grab her away from her husband.
"Michael," she said as Drew began to pull her aside. "Keep in touch."
"Sure." He grabbed a gla.s.s off a pa.s.sing tray as he watched them move
away. If it was only jealousy, he wondered why every instinct had him
itching to bash Drew Latimer's pretty face in.
Because he's got her, Michael told himself ruthlessly. And you don't.
DREW WASN'T DRUNK. He'd nursed two gla.s.ses of champagne during the
long, and excruciatingly boring evening. He wanted to be clearheaded
and in control. He prided himself that kissing up to Brian McAvoy would
reap rewards. Any fool could have seen that Drew Latimer was devoted to
and besotted with his wife. He should have won a tucking Oscar for the
performance.
And all the while he'd been playing the doting husband, she'd been
flaunting her success, her snotty boarding-school education, and her
society friends.
He'd wanted to slap her around right there in front of all the cameras.
Then the world would have seen who was really on top.
But her daddy wouldn't have liked it. Not him, or any of the producers,
promoters, and b.u.t.toned-down executives who fawned over the great Brian
McAvoy. They'd be fawning over Drew Latimer before long, he promised
himself. Then she'd pay.
He'd almost decided to let her have her glory. Then she'd had the nerve
to hang all over that "friend." She needed to be taught a lesson for
that. And he was just the man to do it.
He was silent on the ride home. It didn't seem to bother Emma. She was
half asleep beside him. Pretending to be asleep, Drew decided. She'd
probably already made plans to meet that creep Kesselring.
He imagined them together-in some fancy hotel suite, groping around in
bed. It almost made him laugh. Kesselring would be in for a
disappointment when he discovered pretty little Emma was a dud between
the sheets. But Kesselring wasn't going to have the chance to find out.
No one cheated on Drew Latimer. He was going to drive that point home
very shortly.
She was half dreaming when the limo stopped. With a sigh, she settled
her head on Drew's shoulder as he led her into the lobby.
"I feel as though I've been up all night." On a sleepy laugh, she
snuggled against him. "And the whole night seems like a dream. I don't
think I can manage to wait up for the reviews."
It was as though she were floating, Emma thought. And it felt
wonderful. She slipped out of her wrap the moment they were in the
door. "I think I'll-"
He hit her. A resounding blow that sent her tumbling down the two tiled
stairs into the living room. Moaning, she touched a hand to the side of
her face. "Drew?"
"b.i.t.c.h. You sneaky, conniving b.i.t.c.h."
Dazed, she watched him advance on her. Instinct had her trying to slide
away. "Drew, don't. Please. What did I do?"
He yanked her up by the hair, slapping her again before she could
